Possession
by LaylaBinx
Summary: He shouldn't care that the kid was about to die. Hell, he'd lost track of how many times he'd tried to kill him himself. But dammit, Charlie was his! Unintentional h/c! The best kind! :D
1. Possession

**WHOOOO! Fic 100! XD Wow, I can't believe I've written this many stories O.o This idea in part has not left me alone since I saw this movie and had literally plagued me relentlessly until I put pen to paper (computer?) so here you are =p A SLASH version of this chapter will be coming soon so if that's your thing keep and eye out! :D Hope you guys like it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing =/ But Gos...Colin Ferral...*drool***

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A heavy layer of dust had been kicked up into the air from the countless trucks and bull dozers that were rumbling around the new construction site. It covered the workers like a fine powder, clinging to sweaty skin and damp hair as they continued to work through the night. The crew for the late shift was coming to relieve the evening shift members, taking their time to clock in and walk over to the construction site. The minute they came into view, several of the other men stopped what they were doing and began to head to the gates, a few others staying just long enough to finish the job they'd been working on.

Jerry Dandridge stepped away from the bull dozer he'd been driving and walked slowly across the dusty site toward his truck. He brushed dirt from his hands absently, the dust making his skin feel gritty and dry. He needed a drink, something strong and stiff. He didn't need to feed, he'd done that earlier in the evening; a pretty waitress from the diner on the outskirts of town had invited him over for dinner. Little did she know she was going to be the main course...

No, he needed scotch or whiskey, something that would work quickly and burn all the way down. He slid in behind the steering wheel, revving the engine just for formality sake. The other workers avoided him, they were afraid of him and he liked that. It had taken him a long time to regain his strength and he liked knowing that he could still instill a shock of terror into the hearts of normal men. He smirked, watching as a handful of workers scattered away from his truck like cockroaches from a spotlight, and peeled out of the construction site.

**OOOOO**

It was nearly 2 am by the time he reached the bar but the night owls and the street walkers were nowhere near ready to turn in for the night. Late as it was, there were still crowds of people wandering the streets, weaving in and out of casinos and bars and searching for the next great thrill. He watched them silently, dark eyes darting between each passing group as he slowly sipped his whiskey.

Humans were strange creatures: unbelievably fragile yet incredibly powerful when they wanted to be. It took barely a thought to break one to pieces but every once in a while one came along that changed the rules. It was a nice change of scenary but surprising all the same. Jerry should know; he'd spent the past year literally pulling himself back together from the last human who came as a surprise to him...

The bartender refilled his glass without needing to be asked and Jerry decided the man deserved a nice tip. Sure, he could be a cold-blooded monster sometimes but he never stopped appreciating good service. He downed the entire glass in one gulp, much to the surprise of the bartender, and pulled out a handful of $20 bills. His tab was roughly $30 but he passed $60 across the surface of the bar and walked out before the man could question it. He wasn't in the mood to explain himself, not tonight.

He stepped out into the cool, dry air, turning in the direction of the parking lot and making his way slowly back to his truck. A few scantily clad women passed by him, eyeing him appreciatively, and any other night he would have gladly stolen one away for a late night snack. Not tonight though...he was tired and the copious amount of whiskey he'd just consumed were doing nothing to help alleviate that problem.

He turned the corner to the parking lot, one hand dipping into his pocket for his keys, when he stopped suddenly. A slight breeze had kicked up, churning the dust at his feet and kicking it up onto the fronts of his jeans. He wasn't paying attention to it though, he was more focused on the smell of blood the breeze had brought with it. It was fresh, recently spilled and close by, maybe only a mile or so from where he was standing. It wasn't an unusual scent, especially not in this part of the city. It could have come from anything really: a mugging gone wrong, someone who drank too much and took a header into the corner of a bar, a scraped knee from tripping in stiletto heels, the list went on and on. But there was something about the scent, something familiar and tantilizing like remembering the fragrant perfume of a lover. He thought hard for a second, closing his eyes and taking in a slow, deep breath. It hit him suddenly, like a freight train barreling out of the darkness.

Charlie. It was Charlie's blood...he could recognize that scent anywhere. He took another breath, slowly turning in the direction it was coming from. Southwest...about a mile and a half away...He opened his eyes, looking in the direction with the same dark, predatory gaze a shark develops right before it attacks and unwary victim. Charlie was close by...Charlie was bleeding (heavily by the smell of it)...Charlie was here...

The smell of the boy's blood was intoxicating, more so than any of the liquor from the bar he'd just exited. It made him dizzy, swirling in his head like a potent drug. He knew that smell better than anyone in the world and every bit of it reminded him of Charlie. He rememebered the smell of the boy's fear, his anxiety and the adrenaline that had coursed madly through his veins the night he faced off against Jerry. Every atom, every molecule, every single cell he could detect was all a part of Charlie and he smell it like he was standing directly over him.

Without any real conscious thought as to what he was doing, Jerry swung himself into his truck and closed the door, revving the engine and pulling out of the parking lot, heading Southwest. He smirked to himself in the darkness of the cab. It was time he paid Charlie Brester a visit...

**OOOOO **

He drove slowly, carefully, along the back streets of the Strip, the window rolled down and the breeze wafting its way into the cab of the truck. He was getting closer, the smell was getting stronger, and he kept driving. A day hadn't gone by since he'd managed to regain his body that he hadn't thought of Charlier Brewster. That brat, that _child_, had come closer to killing him than anyone else had in nearly a century. If he were honest with himself, Jerry would have admitted that he was slightly impressed by that fact but he was also furious about it as well. He was a hunter, a predator, years of fine tuning and mutation had turned him into a nearly perfect killing machine and somehow that Brewster brat had nearly snuffed him out completely. Jerry wasn't about to forget that anytime soon.

The smell was almost overpowering now, flooding the inside of the truck and hanging around him like a lingering cologne. He pulled to a stop in a parking lot behind a convenience store and got out of the truck, looking toward the mouth of a dark alley. The blood was coming from there.

This was the real Las Vegas, the gritty, dirty underbelly that was tucked away behind the gilded lights of the Strip. This was the Las Vegas tourists avoided, the one filled with families living in housing developments and projects, the one cluttered with homeless men, women, and children who would do just about anything for a warm meal. This was _his_ Las Vegas and he embraced it like a brother.

He stepped toward the dark alley, his senses reeling from the overwhelming scent of Charlie's blood. It hung in the air like an invisible mist, clinging to his skin and making every fiber of his being jump to high alert. His eyes darkened, the muscles in his jaw flexing ever so slightly as his teeth ground together in his mouth.

The alley was littered with garbage bags, some ripped open by a combination of people and animals, and there was trash all over the ground. Everything felt damp and dirty and there was a heavy smell of ditch water hovering in the air just inches from the ground. Something was splattered along the walls, too dark to see clearly in the shadows, but Jerry could tell by the viscosity and the gleam in the dark light that it was blood. _Charlie's blood_.

He took another step forward, taking in a slow, deep breath. The scent was so powerful it nearly consumed him but he pushed himself forward even more, looking around into the darkened piles of garbage for the source. His vision was sharper than normal human's, he could see clearly in the darkness, but all that met his gaze were piles of trash bags and garbage. Then, nearly hidded by a large, bulging black bag, he saw a foot. Not just any foot either, this foot was clad in one of those ridiculous shoes the brat had been wearing the first day they met.

Jerry walked over to the bag and grabbed a handful of it, lifting it easily and tossing it to the side. There was Charlie. The boy was sprawled across the ground, his body nearly completely covered in the trash that was strewn all over the alley. He was pale and still and didn't move even as the bag covering his upper body was pulled away. There was a ragged, gaping hole in the side of his throat, a parting gift from another vampire no doubt. It was bleeding profusely and had it not been for the weak, fluttering pulse trembling just beneath the wound, Jerry would have thought he was already dead.

He stepped closer, dropping into a crouch next to the boy and eyeing him carefully. This was the brat that had nearly killed him...the one he'd been dreaming of dismembering one tiny piece at a time for nearly a year now. This was the boy who had set him on fire and then staked him through the heart, so surprisingly powerful at the time, now lying bleeding and broken and dying in a dark alley, thrown out like the garbage that surrounded him. Jerry smirked.

"Chaarrllliiieee..." He called softly, watching the boy's face carefully for any sign of movement. "Charlie..." He said a bit louder, leaning just a bit closer so he was nearly hovering over him. Still no reaction. "Charlie!" He hissed, his voice harsh and ragged, and this time it had the desired effect. Charlie's eyes flickered weakly behind their closed lids and he blinked slowly, blearily, his grip on consciousness about to give out at any second.

His eyes traveled to Jerry and he stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Jerry..." He said finally, his voice weak and shuddering from blood loss.

"Hey guy," Jery smirked again, his eyes flashing dangerously like a wolf who had just found a baby lamb separated from the herd.

Charlie simply blinked again, obviously trying to wrap his mind around the concept that the vampire was crouching in front of him. "I...thought I killed you..." He mumbled weakly, his eyes drooping a bit as he spoke.

Jerry just smirked again. "Its possible I can't die," he said simply with a tiny shrug. He'd been expecting Charlie to be terrified, to burst into hysterical sobs and beg for his life the minute he saw him again. He hadn't been expecting him to laugh...

Charlie chuckled very softly and shook his head, a fresh wave of blood oozing from the wound in his throat. "Fuck..."

"You don't know the half of it kid," Jerry growled, leaning a bit closer and tip-toeing his fingers across Charlie's shoulder. "You know, you did a _real_ number on me Charlie...you caused me a lot of damage...more so than hardly anyone else ever has. It took me a long time to recover and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed by your tenacity but what I want to know is how a boy like you, a kid who just barely managed to wriggle his way out of the grips of puberty, managed to take down someone like me?"

Charlie chuckled again but it seemed to be much more of an endeavor this time. "Just lucky I guess..."

"No such thing as luck, kid," Jerry muttered, glaring at him irritably before smirking again. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Charlie shrugged weakly, his eyes fluttering a bit. "I never said it was good luck..."

Jerry's smirk widened just a bit. Charlie would never cease to amaze him; he was dying and still managed to make light of the situation. "I think you're luck, whatever kind it is, has finally run out brat." He reached forward, grabbing a handful of Charlie's shirt, pulling him forward and away from the wall. The boy didn't resist, he didn't try to pull back, he just allowed himself to fall bonelessly into Jerry's arms because he was too weak to do much of anything else.

Jerry caught him easily, cradling him almost gently to his chest. "I told you Charlie...some people just need to be handled." The boy's glassy eyes blinked up at him briefly before flickering closed and staying that way. He hung in Jerry's arms limply like a marionette with its strings cut, his head lolling back and falling to the side, exposing the uninjured side of his neck.

Jerry stared at the unbroken flesh, his gums burning and itching like he had just swished a mouthful of cinnamon Listerine. He could see the pulse of blood just beneath the surface, weak and sluggish though it may be, and he could feel his fangs extending, a slight sting as the sharp, jagged points cut into his gums. His jaw widened, sharp fangs sticking out like daggers in a shark's mouth, and his breathing deepened in order to enhance his senses even further.

He could smell the boy's sweat now, the way his blood mingled with that and the dirty air in the alley. His blood was dripping down Jerry's arm, falling to the ground with a soft _plick_ noise each time it landed in the slowly forming a tiny puddle. Jerry shifted the boy in his arms, jostling him into a new position so his throat was more exposed. He bent forward, his jaw stretching a bit more as he opened his mouth. His fangs were so close to the boy's skin he could actually feel the body heat coming off of him. Just one quick bite...that's all it would take...bite down, crush the airway, and Charlie Brewster would be out of his life forever...he was already halfway gone anyway...

Jerry stopped then, his fangs just barely brushing over the smooth unbroken skin beneath them. He hesitated and he wasn't sure why. He shouldn't care that Charlie was dying. Hell, he'd try to kill the kid more times than he could count. He hated this boy, hated everything about him and had dreamed of nothing but killing him since the moment he got back but for some reason he hesitated. It would have been an easy kill, easier than probably any he'd done in the past few years, and another vampire had already taken the liberty of starting the process for him. But that was the problem. _Jerry_ wanted to be the one to kill Charlie, not the one to simply finish him off. The boy was a pain in the ass, literally, but he showed more fight and more spirit than anyone else Jerry had ever encountered. He actually fought back instead of fleeing in terror like a coward. If anyone was going to kill Charlie, any vampire, it was going to be Jerry and he wasn't going to settle for him being half-dead when he did it.

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and forcing his jaw closed as well. His fangs slowly slipped back into his gums, disappearing all together and leaving him with the same gorgeous smile that lured all the women back to his house. He looked back down at the unconscious boy in his arms, his resentment and anger still burning holes into the back of his mind, but he knew what he had to do. The only way he would allow himself to kill Charlie and feel like he'd accomplished anything was if the boy was healthy enough to fight back and right now he most certainly wasn't. Charlie was bleeding to death and if he died before Jerry had a chance to finish him off himself, he would never forget it.

He lifted the boy into his arms easily, standing slowly and making his way back to his truck. He opened the door one-handed and deposited the unconscious teenager into the passenger seat, ignoring the long smear of blood that streaked across the seat as he slumped sideways. Jerry didn't really care, it certainly wasn't the first blood stain he'd had in this truck. He walked around to the other side, swinging himself into the driver's seat and shoving the key into the ignition. With one sideways glance at Charlie, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove back in the direction of his house.

**OOOOO**

It was close to 5 am by the time the truck rumbled into the driveway in front of a small, single story brick house. All the windows had been boarded up and then covered with a thick layer of curtains to the inside. The door was reinforced on both the inside and the outside and there was evidence of some sort of construction going on beneath the house. No one ever asked about it though; most people avoided Jerry Dandridge's house if they could help it.

Jerry turned off the ignition and stepped out of the truck, walking around to the other side and opening the passenger door. Charlie was slumped across the seat, eyes closed and skin colorless. He hadn't regained consciousness at all since he'd passed out in the alley and Jerry didn't see that changing any time soon. He was still breathing though, albeit shallowly, so at least he hadn't up and died on the trip over here. Jerry grabbed the teenager's thin, clammy wrist and pulled him upright, catching him easily before tumbled out of the truck. He hoisted him over one shoulder, nudged the door closed with his hip, and made his way up to the front door.

The house was cold and dark, the closest thing to a cave one could get in this part of the city. He'd been working on this house for a little over five months now, rebuilding everything he'd lost in the old one. It didn't have a basement (yet) nor did it have a storage hallway he could hold his victims in but he had plans to change that. He'd become a bit careless a year ago, he'd made himself noticable and that had led to his downfall. No matter; he would be sure not to make the same mistake twice. Las Vegas was a big city, there was no way to keep track of every single person who went missing.

He weaved his way through the dark hallway, carefully avoiding boxes and heavy bags full of tools, and walked into the bedroom. The bed was still unmade and rumpled from the last woman he'd had over but the sheets were clean of blood at least. He always made sure to make the kill in a different room; he was rather fond of the Egyptian sheets on his bed and having to wash the blood out of them on a regular basis took away from the softness of the fabric. Not that he ever slept but still, if he was ever in the mood to lay down in the bed, he preferred the sheets to be nice. He wasn't worried about it right now as he dumped Charlie uncerimoniously onto the tanlge of sheets and blankets.

He turned back into the hall, walking toward the kitchen and turning on a single light above the stove. The appliances hadn't been touched yet, the cabinets and pantry were barren, and the refrigerator was completely empty save for the produce drawer which was filled with apples. He didn't have the give off the appearance of being human very often so he wasn't worried about stocking the kitchen any time soon. Still, he needed the First Aid kit out of the cabinet beneath the sink.

The First Aid kit had come from the construction site, one of the freebies all the workers got when they first started the job. It was supposed to encourage employee safety or some shit like that; Jerry hadn't really been paying attention when it was handed to him. He wasn't sure why he'd kept it, it wasn't like he would ever need it with his regeneration abilities, but for some reason it had ended up in his kitchen under the sink. He was glad for it now though, considering the circumstances.

He grabbed the kit and walked back to the bedroom, setting it down on the beside table and flicking on a lamp. Charlie was sprawled bonelessly across the bed, arms and legs akimbo like he'd just been tossed out of a car. The wound in the side of his throat was ugly and caked with dried blood so it was hard to see how bad the damage was. Jerry stepped out of the room once more, grabbing a wash cloth from the bathroom and wetting it under the faucet.

He walked back into the bedroom, kneeling next to the bed and carefully scrubbing away the blood from the side of Charlie's throat. There was a lot of it, stiffening the collar of his shirt and causing the fabric to stick to his skin. Jerry paused long enough to unbutton the shirt and wrestle Charlie out of it, which was significantly harder considering he was unconscious, and toss it into the corner of the room; it was ruined anyway, he doubted Charlie would be missing it any time soon. That problem taken care of, he turned his attention back to the blood. It was thick and tacky, the result of fresh blood drying over old blood, and it flaked off onto the sheets as he worked. The wash cloth joslted the wound enough to caused a fresh wave of blood to ooze from the torn flesh, dying the skin that had just been cleaned crimson.

Once the majority of the blood had been cleaned away, the extent of the wound was visible against the pale skin. The flesh was ripped and torn, the bite had been sloppy. It wasn't a clean wound like the ones left by a mature vampire but the crazed, gruesome tearing made by a newer one. There was no telling how many vampires there were in this city, Jerry never bothered to count them, and the chances that it came from a fledgling vampire was more possible than not. The lucky thing about the bite though was that the artery hadn't been severed; if it had Charlie would have been dead in that alley in minutes. While the wound was deep and ugly, the severity was substantially less than what Jerry had expected.

He opened the First Aid kit with one hand, rummaging around in the box for a second before pulling out a thick gauze pad and a roll of bandages. He couldn't stitch the wound for two reasons: number one, it was much too jagged and wide to do without some kind of medical assitance and number two, he didn't have a suture kit in the First Aid kit. Covering the wound and preventing anymore blood loss was the best he could do for now.

He covered the wound with the gauze pad and began to carefully wrap the bandages around Charlie's throat, securing it to his neck tightly. The bandages blended in with his pale skin, sticking out in stark contrast to the darkness of the sheets. After a few seconds, once the wound had been wrapped as tightly as Jerry could manage without strangling the teenager, he sat back and examined his work.

Charlie was still unconscious, his breathing shallow and uneven, but he hadn't taken a turn for the worse yet so Jerry figured it was a good thing. He knew the boy's chances for survival were slim but it wouldn't be for lack of trying. He stood slowly, casting one last look at the bed before tossing the stained sheets over Charlie's bare chest and stepping out of the room, leaving him alone in the darkness.

**OOOOO**

Charlie twisted fitfully in the tangle of sheets, his arms and legs becoming more hopelessly trapped with each movement. He was clinging to the verge of consciousness with a vice-like grip, holding on with everything he was worth. He struggled to open his eyes, the effort taking much more energy than he liked. It was suffocatingly dark, impenetrable almost, and for a split second Charlie wondered if he'd gone blind. A very tiny shimmer of light playing across the dark ceiling canceled that thought though and he concentrated all of his energy on focusing on that light.

He wasn't sure where he was and wasn't really sure how he's ended up here in the first place. He tried to lift his head but it felt like a 200 pound weight had been strapped across his forehead and the attempt made him dizzy. He felt weak and helpless, two sensations that did not bode well, and he struggled to remember what happened. His neck was throbbing, a deep, shooting ache that shot from his jaw to his collarbone and he remembered with a start the vampire from the alley.

He'd been walking down the sidewalk and someone had grabbed him from the darkened alley. At first he thought he was being mugged until the person wrenched his head to the side and clamped down on his throat. The pain had been unlike anything he'd ever felt in his life; the teeth and the biting hurt of course but it was nothing compared to the coldness that swept through his body as he quite literally felt the blood being drained from him. It was like being very slowly submerged into a tub of ice water but there was no way to get warm again.

The next few memories were blurry, hazy, and he blamed that on blood loss completely. He wracked his brain trying to remember but he kept coming up blank. He still wasn't sure where he was or how he ended up here but it was so close...right on the tip of his memory...

A light flicked on somewhere to his right and he snapped his head to the side before he remembered the wound in his throat. He gasped involuntarily, lifting a lead-heavy hand to his throat and touching the bandages covering the wound. The brush of his finger tips over the bandages brought a fresh wave of throbbing to a crescendo.

"I see you're finally awake," a silky, seductive voice muttered from the shadowed silhouette in the doorway. That voice sounded so familiar...but it was impossible...there was no way...he'd killed him... The voice's owner stepped into the room, his image still obscured by the light behind him, and approached the bed. The lamp on the bedside table flicked on and Charlie winced at the brightness of the light. Then he gasped again, this time out of shock.

Jerry was crouched next to the bed, dark eyes gleaming and lips curled back in a sardonic smirk. "Hey kid."

Charlie sat up so quickly it made his head spin and was pushing himself backwards across the bed to put a substantial distance between he and the vampire. "Easy, Charlie," Jerry chided softly, his eyes never leaving the boy's face. "You don't want to open that wound back up do you?"

A very faint dampness had already begun to cling to the bandages at his throat but he ignored it. "W-What are you doing here? I killed you...!"

Jerry just smirked again and rolled his eyes like he was humoring a child. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie...we've been through this conversation already. You thought you killed me, I can't die, the world keeps turning."

Charlie shook his head in disbelief. "But...But Peter said-"

"Peter Vincent collects items of the occult...no matter what he's been told or what he tells you, I can pretty much guarentee nothing in his arsenal will work for long." Jerry shrugged one shoulder. "Hate to break it to you kid, but it takes a lot more than a stake in the heart to take down a vampire."

Charlie was reeling. He'd spent the entirety of the past year convinced Jerry was gone forever, that he'd been defeated in the basement of that house. He'd tried so hard to convince himself that he would never come back. And now here he was, crouched at the bedside and speaking to Charlie like they were old friends. What kind of parallel universe was this?

"Here." Something was being passed to him and Charlie looked down to see a glass extended from Jerry's hand. Charlie eyed the glass warily like he was expecting it to explode at any minute. Jerry rolled his eyes. "Charlie, take the fucking glass."

"Why? What did you do to it? What's in there?"

Jerry sighed heavily before answering. "Its water." Upon seeing the boy's disbelieving look, he continued. "Seriously, kid? You think I'd go through the trouble of poisoning you if I wanted you dead that badly? Hell, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered picking you up from that alley. I would have just left you there for the rats to finish off."

"Why did you?"

"What?"

"Why did you take me from the alley. Why didn't you just kill me right there and get it over with? Did you bring me back here so you could turn me into one of your weird dirt children or whatever the hell those things in the basement were?" The words came out all in a rush and the force of talking so much at one time was making him dizzy again but he couldn't help it.

Jerry's dark eyes glinted again but he smiled softly. "I have my reasons. Now take the glass, I'm not going to tell you again."

Charlie glanced between the glass and Jerry, debating on which one seemed more dangerous at the moment. He'd always been told never to accept anything from a stranger, expecially when that stranger had an affinity for human blood and biting, but he couldn't ignore how thirsty he was either. Another affect of the blood loss, he was sure, but it was becoming more than he could handle. Finally, after a few more seconds of debate and against his better judgement, he took the glass and took a large drink of water, almost immediately spitting it back out on the bed. "Ugh! What is that?"

"I told you, its water."

"Ugh...that's not water..."

"Yes, it is," Jerry insisted. "Its water mixed with salt and sugar, it'll help replace the electrolytes in your system. I can't really do anything else about your blood loss right now except keep you hydrated and this is the best way to do it." He stood, walking into the bathroom and returning a few minutes later with a towel, crouching back down by the bed and dabbing at the water on the sheets. "Drink it."

Charlie eyed him carefully once more, anticipating some kind of surprise attack. After a few seconds, when one didn't come, he lifted the glass to his lips again and took another tentative sip. It tasted horrible, like salty sweet lemonade, but it did help with the thirst. He finished the glass after a few minutes, his arms still feeling heavy and unresponsive as he struggled to place the glass on the night table without knocking it over. "How long have I been here...?" It was another question that had been bothering him since he regained consciousness and one that had moved to the forefront of his mind.

"Hmm...about a day and a half?" Jerry muttered, tossing the towel across the room into the same corner Charlie's shirt had ended up. Upon seeing Charlie's shocked expression, he smirked again. "Blood loss tends to lead to unintentional comas, you know."

"A day and a half? I've been here for a day and a half?"

"Wow, nothing gets by you, does it kid?"

"Oh my God...I've missed two days worth of school...I had a paper due...my mom is going to flip-"

"Where is your mom, Charlie?"

The question caught the younger man off guard and he blinked for second before his eyes narrowed suspiciously at Jerry. "Why? Why do you want to know where she is?"

Jerry rolled his eyes again. "Because I found you bleeding to death in an alley off the Las Vegas Strip. Unless I'm mistaken, usually mothers are the first ones who notice their kid's have gone missing." He grinned darkly, shiny white teeth flashing in the dim light. "I should know."

Charlie felt an unintential shudder and shook his head a bit. He figured he should lie and say that his mom was home right now but he doubted Jerry would believe that for a second. "Uh...she's on a business trip...she won't be back home until Wednesday."

Jerry nodded after a second and stood, taking the glass from the bedside table and walking it up to the kitchen, leaving Charlie alone in the dark room. The boy's head was reeling. Jerry was alive. He was in Jerry's house...in Jerry's bed. Jerry was a vampire and Charlie was stuck in his house. He looked toward the door, trying to discern how far away the front door was and if he could make a run for it. He tried lifting one leg off the bed experimentally and felt a prickle of sweat begin to form on his back between his shoulders. It was an insane amount of effort of even lift one leg so running seemed to be out of the question. In the darkness, he could make out the frame of a window covered in thick, dark curtains. He could rip the curtains off the windows and shower Jerry in a healthy dose of sunlight but once again, that meant using his legs and that seemed to be a losing battle. He was still racing through these thoughts when Jerry finally entered the room again.

"I wouldn't try making a run for it, kid," he mutttered as if reading Charlie's mind. "I'm faster and stronger than you even when your health is at full capacity."

Charlie shook his head wearily, the effort of sitting up becoming more exhausting with each passing minute. "You never answered me from before...why am I here? Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Jerry smiled that same silky, devious smile he used on everyone he was trying to charm and looked directly at Charlie. "Oh Charlie...haven't you figured it out yet? You're belong to me and I couldn't very well let you die by someone else's hands, now could I?"

Charlie shook his head a bit. "I don't belong to you-"

"Yes you do." Jerry said, cutting him off sharply. "You've belonged to me since the first day I met you in the driveway. You think I was chasing after Peter and Amy and Ed because I wanted them? No, I pursued them to get to you. You're the one who interested me Charlie, it was you all along." Seeing his disbelieving look, he smirked again. "And I'm the only one who will get to decide whether you live or die."

"But you can't just-"

"Oh can't I?" Jerry was on the bed then, faster than Charlie could have blinked, and had shoved him into the headboard. "All those times I tip-toed around you, adhering to the "rules" of the vampires and pretending to be affected by the little things you did to protect yourself...do you know how many times I could have snatched you up and torn you apart piece by piece? Do you know how easy it would have been to grab you and hide you away somewhere so dark you wouldn't even remember what the sun looked like? I own you Charlie...I hold your fate in my hands more than you could ever know and I'll be the one who decides what to do with it."

"So why haven't you killed me already?" Charlie asked again, his head spinning a bit from all the sudden movement. "You have me here...it would be easy, right?"

Jerry smiled and released him with a nod. "Oh yes, it would be easy. Like snuffing out a candle. But, like I said, I'm not going to let someone else get the upper hand in your death. If you're going to be killed by a vampire its going to be me. The one who attacked you earlier had done a pretty good job of attempted murder and I could have easily killed you in that alley had I wanted to but, when the time does come, I want you to be healthy enough to fight back."

"You're different from others in that respect, Charlie. Whereas others would run away screaming, you stayed and fought. I have a certain respect for those who stand to accept their fate. And because of that, I'm not going to kill you until you can show me that same fight you had in you earlier. That's why I brought you back here from the alley."

Charlie wanted to say something to that, defend himself a bit more and insist that he didn't belong to Jerry in any sense but he was so tired, so completely drained (figuratively and literally) that he couldn't come up with a coherent thought to form into words. Finally, with great effort, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You're insane."

"No, just obsessive." Jerry smirked once more and stood up, flicking off the lamp on the table and walking to the door. "Go to sleep." His voice rang out in the darkness and Charlie had the eerie sensation that it was coming from every corner of the room. "And if you try to make a run for it, I'll break your legs." And with that, the door opened and closed behind Jerry, leaving Charlie alone in the inky darkness.

As much as he wanted to escape or at least try to get out of bed, he was so exhausted he couldn't even move. He felt himself sink back down onto the mattress, his body heavy and unresponsive, and he wasn't sure whether his eyes were closed or not thanks to the darkness. Finally, sleep overtook him again and he was lost to the world.

**OOOOO**

The next time Charlie woke up, he found the lamp turned on on the bedside table, another glass of the water perched on the corner and a black t-shirt folded next to it. He sat up slowly, happy to find he had a tiny bit more strength this time around, and took the glass. It was the same disgusting sugar and salt mixture from before but it served its purpose of keeping him hydrated. He set the glass back down and eyed the shirt warily, debating on what to do with it. It was Jerry's, he knew that much, but he wasn't sure he wanted to wear it if he could help it. Still, his own shirt was gone, more than likely ruined beyond repair, and he was noticeably shirtless.

He sighed and grabbed the shirt, pulling it over his head and wincing a bit when the collar caught on the bandages around his thoat. They had been changed, the gauze clean and soft instead of sticky and stiff from dried blood. It was still hard to come to grips with the fact that Jerry had basically been nursing him back to health in his own house but the alternative was dead in an alley so Charlie couldn't complain all that much.

Once he'd dressed to as much of his ability, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and attempted to stand. His knees felt weak and shaky and he had to cling to the bedside table tightly to avoid falling over completely. A few minutes passed before he felt grounded enough to try and walk and he took a few shuffling steps toward the door. Jerry met him halfway there.

The door swung open and the vampire eyed him carefully. "Oh good, you managed to get out of bed without falling. That's an accomplishment." There was mix of teasing and sarcasm in his voice and Charlie couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Yeah, amazing what seventeen years worth of walking can do for you," he mumbled back, breathing a little harder than necessary from the exertion. "What are you doing?" He asked finally, noticing the keys dangling from Jerry's hand.

"Taking you home. I have to go to work and your mother is probably going to be looking for you when she gets back."

"Shit...its Wednesday already?"

Jerry ignored him and turned on his heel, walking out of the room. "Meet me in the truck," he called over his shoulder, the front door slamming behind him a few seconds later. Charlie grimaced. It seemed like a trick...there was no way Jerry would be taking him back to his house and just letting him go like that. He was probably going to dump him out in the desert somewhere and leave him there to rot. Still, it was either take a chance in the truck or stay here in the vampire's house and Charlie was pretty sure he's stand a better chance out there. It took every ounce of strength he still possessed to make it to front door.

It was dark outside, the sun setting off in the horizon and Jerry's black truck stood gleaming in the driveway. Charlie dragged himself across the driveway, gripping the hood of the truck for support as he walked. He opened the passenger door and quite literally threw himself inside as his legs threatened to give out on him all together. There were dark stains on the seat behind him and he had a sinking feeling it was blood. His blood. The thought made his stomach turn.

Once Charlie was in the truck, Jerry reversed out into the street and drove away from the house. The ride back was silent and Charlie nearly felt himself fading off again by the time they pulled into a familiar suburb. He blinked, seeing the light of his house in the distance and his mother's car in the driveway. Jerry was true to his word, he'd taken Charlie back home.

"Get your mother to take you to the hospital for the blood loss." Jerry said from behind the steering wheel, not bothering to look over at him. Charlie nodded slightly and had just barely touched the door handle when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. "And Charlie..." Jerry was facing him now, his dark eyes narrowed and predatory. "I wasn't kidding when I said you were mine to deal with. The minute your strength returns, the minute you try to come looking for me again, I will kill you and there will be nothing to hold me back." The boy's eyes widened just slight but he nodded as if it were some unwritten law. He reached for the door handle again, pushing it open an inch before Jerry spoke again. "And if you ever try to light me on fire again, I'm going to skin you alive one layer at a time, got it?" Charlie nodded again, his eyes level with Jerry's; a silent understanding passed between them in that moment and nothing else needed to be said. "Good." Jerry let go of his shoulder and nodded toward the door again.

It was only when Charlie had stepped out of the truck and prepared to close the door again did Jerry flash him a darkly sexy smirk. "See you around, guy," he said, shifting the truck into gear and driving away into the night.

* * *

**I hope Jerry wasn't too OOC O.o Hope you guys liked it!**


	2. Possession SLASH!

**Hello my lovelies! Here's the slash version of the first chapter! I'm not sure if I'll continue this (it took me two weeks to even write the slash version O.o) Hope you all like it though! :D**

* * *

A heavy layer of dust had been kicked up into the air from the countless trucks and bull dozers that were rumbling around the new construction site. It covered the workers like a fine powder, clinging to sweaty skin and damp hair as they continued to work through the night. The crew for the late shift was coming to relieve the evening shift members, taking their time to clock in and walk over to the construction site. The minute they came into view, several of the other men stopped what they were doing and began to head to the gates, a few others staying just long enough to finish the job they'd been working on.

Jerry Dandridge stepped away from the bull dozer he'd been driving and walked slowly across the dusty site toward his truck. He brushed dirt from his hands absently, the dust making his skin feel gritty and dry. He needed a drink, something strong and stiff. He didn't need to feed, he'd done that earlier in the evening; a pretty waitress from the diner on the outskirts of town had invited him over for dinner. Little did she know she was going to be the main course...

No, he needed scotch or whiskey, something that would work quickly and burn all the way down. He slid in behind the steering wheel, revving the engine just for formality sake. The other workers avoided him, they were afraid of him and he liked that. It had taken him a long time to regain his strength and he liked knowing that he could still instill a shock of terror into the hearts of normal men. He smirked, watching as a handful of workers scattered away from his truck like cockroaches from a spotlight, and peeled out of the construction site.

**OOOOO**

It was nearly 2 am by the time he reached the bar but the night owls and the street walkers were nowhere near ready to turn in for the night. Late as it was, there were still crowds of people wandering the streets, weaving in and out of casinos and bars and searching for the next great thrill. He watched them silently, dark eyes darting between each passing group as he slowly sipped his whiskey.

Humans were strange creatures: unbelievably fragile yet incredibly powerful when they wanted to be. It took barely a thought to break one to pieces but every once in a while one came along that changed the rules. It was a nice change of scenary but surprising all the same. Jerry should know; he'd spent the past year literally pulling himself back together from the last human who came as a surprise to him...

The bartender refilled his glass without needing to be asked and Jerry decided the man deserved a nice tip. Sure, he could be a cold-blooded monster sometimes but he never stopped appreciating good service. He downed the entire glass in one gulp, much to the surprise of the bartender, and pulled out a handful of $20 bills. His tab was roughly $30 but he passed $60 across the surface of the bar and walked out before the man could question it. He wasn't in the mood to explain himself, not tonight.

He stepped out into the cool, dry air, turning in the direction of the parking lot and making his way slowly back to his truck. A few scantily clad women passed by him, eyeing him appreciatively, and any other night he would have gladly stolen one away for a late night snack. Not tonight though...he was tired and the copious amount of whiskey he'd just consumed were doing nothing to help alleviate that problem.

He turned the corner to the parking lot, one hand dipping into his pocket for his keys, when he stopped suddenly. A slight breeze had kicked up, churning the dust at his feet and kicking it up onto the fronts of his jeans. He wasn't paying attention to it though, he was more focused on the smell of blood the breeze had brought with it. It was fresh, recently spilled and close by, maybe only a mile or so from where he was standing. It wasn't an unusual scent, especially not in this part of the city. It could have come from anything really: a mugging gone wrong, someone who drank too much and took a header into the corner of a bar, a scraped knee from tripping in stiletto heels, the list went on and on. But there was something about the scent, something familiar and tantilizing like remembering the fragrant perfume of a lover. He thought hard for a second, closing his eyes and taking in a slow, deep breath. It hit him suddenly, like a freight train barreling out of the darkness.

Charlie. It was Charlie's blood...he could recognize that scent anywhere. He took another breath, slowly turning in the direction it was coming from. Southwest...about a mile and a half away...He opened his eyes, looking in the direction with the same dark, predatory gaze a shark develops right before it attacks and unwary victim. Charlie was close by...Charlie was bleeding (heavily by the smell of it)...Charlie was here...

The smell of the boy's blood was intoxicating, more so than any of the liquor from the bar he'd just exited. It made him dizzy, swirling in his head like a potent drug, and it sent a straight shot of heat down to his groin. He knew that smell better than anyone in the world and every bit of it reminded him of Charlie: Charlie's foolish bravery, Charlie's defiance even in the face of death, Charlie's determination to take Jerry down. He rememebered the smell of the boy's fear, his anxiety and the adrenaline that had coursed madly through his veins the night he faced off against Jerry. He hadn't thought about that scent for months now though Charlie was almost always of the forefront of his mind. Every atom, every molecule, every single cell he could detect was all a part of Charlie and he smelled it like he was standing directly over him.

Without any real conscious thought as to what he was doing, Jerry swung himself into his truck and closed the door, revving the engine and pulling out of the parking lot, heading Southwest. He smirked to himself in the darkness of the cab. It was time he paid Charlie Brester a visit...

**OOOOO **

He drove slowly, carefully, along the back streets of the Strip, the window rolled down and the breeze wafting its way into the cab of the truck. He was getting closer, the smell was getting stronger, and he kept driving. A day hadn't gone by since he'd managed to regain his body that he hadn't thought of Charlier Brewster. That brat, that _child_, had come closer to killing him than anyone else had in nearly a century. If he were honest with himself, Jerry would have admitted that he was slightly impressed by that fact but he was also furious about it as well. He was in a constant war with himself over whether he wanted to kill the brat and be done with it or fuck him stupid and leave him wanting more. It was ridiculous how much he wanted Charlie and how many things he wanted to do to him. The animal side of his brain wanted nothing more than to rip his throat out and watch the perfect, gleaming blood gush from the wound but the other side of his brain, the possessive, sex-driven side wanted to claim every inch of that pale skin with his mouth and mark Charlie as his for the world to see. This paradox had been driving at him for months and the scent of Charlie's blood was bringing it to a whole new level. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do when he found him but every fiber of his being was standing on end at the moment and his skin prickled with excitement.

The smell was almost overpowering now, flooding the inside of the truck and hanging around him like a lingering cologne. He pulled to a stop in a parking lot behind a convenience store and got out of the truck, looking toward the mouth of a dark alley. The blood was coming from there.

This was the real Las Vegas, the gritty, dirty underbelly that was tucked away behind the gilded lights of the Strip. This was the Las Vegas tourists avoided, the one filled with families living in housing developments and projects, the one cluttered with homeless men, women, and children who would do just about anything for a warm meal. This was _his_ Las Vegas and he embraced it like a brother.

He stepped toward the dark alley, his senses reeling from the overwhelming scent of Charlie's blood. It hung in the air like an invisible mist, clinging to his skin and making every sense jump to high alert. His eyes darkened, the muscles in his jaw flexing ever so slightly as his teeth ground together in his mouth.

The alley was littered with garbage bags, some ripped open by a combination of people and animals, and there was trash all over the ground. Everything felt damp and dirty and there was a heavy smell of ditch water hovering in the air just inches from the ground. Something was splattered along the walls, too dark to see clearly in the shadows, but Jerry could tell by the viscosity and the gleam in the dark light that it was blood. _Charlie's blood_.

He took another step forward, taking in a slow, deep breath. The scent was so powerful it nearly consumed him but he pushed himself forward even more, looking around into the darkened piles of garbage for the source. His vision was sharper than normal human's, he could see clearly in the darkness, but all that met his gaze were piles of trash bags and garbage. Then, nearly hidded by a large, bulging black bag, he saw a foot. Not just any foot either, this foot was clad in one of those ridiculous shoes the brat had been wearing the first day they met.

Jerry walked over to the bag and grabbed a handful of it, lifting it easily and tossing it to the side. There was Charlie. The boy was sprawled across the ground, his body nearly completely covered in the trash that was strewn all over the alley. He was pale and still and didn't move even as the bag covering his upper body was pulled away. There was a ragged, gaping hole in the side of his throat, a parting gift from another vampire no doubt. It was bleeding profusely and had it not been for the weak, fluttering pulse trembling just beneath the wound, Jerry would have thought he was already dead.

He stepped closer, dropping into a crouch next to the boy and eyeing him carefully. This was the brat that had nearly killed him...the one he'd been dreaming of dismembering one tiny piece at a time for nearly a year now; the one who haunted his thoughts like a runaway lover. This was the boy who had set him on fire and then staked him through the heart, so surprisingly powerful at the time, now lying bleeding and broken and dying in a dark alley, thrown out like the garbage that surrounded him. Jerry smirked.

"Chaarrllliiieee..." He called softly, watching the boy's face carefully for any sign of movement. "Charlie..." He said a bit louder, leaning just a bit closer so he was nearly hovering over him. He was close enough to brush his lips over the teenager's face but he held back. Charlie still didn't move. "Charlie!" He hissed, his voice harsh and ragged, and this time it had the desired effect. Charlie's eyes flickered weakly behind their closed lids and he blinked slowly, blearily, his grip on consciousness about to give out at any second.

His eyes traveled to Jerry and he stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Jerry..." He said finally, his voice weak and shuddering from blood loss.

"Hey guy," Jery smirked again, his eyes flashing dangerously like a wolf who had just found a baby lamb separated from the herd.

Charlie simply blinked again, obviously trying to wrap his mind around the concept that the vampire was crouching in front of him. "I...thought I killed you..." He mumbled weakly, his eyes drooping a bit as he spoke.

Jerry just smirked again. "Its possible I can't die," he said simply with a tiny shrug. He'd been expecting Charlie to be terrified, to burst into hysterical sobs and beg for his life the minute he saw him again. He hadn't been expecting him to laugh...

Charlie chuckled very softly and shook his head, a fresh wave of blood oozing from the wound in his throat. "Fuck..."

"You don't know the half of it kid," Jerry growled, leaning a bit closer and tip-toeing his fingers across Charlie's shoulder, his sharp nails digging tiny holes into the soft skin. "You know, you did a _real_ number on me Charlie...you caused me a lot of damage...more so than hardly anyone else ever has. It took me a long time to recover and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed by your tenacity but what I want to know is how a boy like you, a kid who just barely managed to wriggle his way out of the grips of puberty, managed to take down someone like me?"

Charlie chuckled again but it seemed to be much more of an endeavor this time. "Just lucky I guess..."

"No such thing as luck, kid," Jerry muttered, glaring at him irritably before smirking again. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Charlie shrugged weakly, his eyes fluttering a bit. "I never said it was good luck..."

Jerry's smirk widened just a bit. Charlie would never cease to amaze him; he was dying and still managed to make light of the situation. "I think you're luck, whatever kind it is, has finally run out brat." He reached forward, grabbing a handful of Charlie's shirt, pulling him forward and away from the wall. The boy didn't resist, he didn't try to pull back, he just allowed himself to fall bonelessly into Jerry's arms because he was too weak to do much of anything else.

Jerry caught him easily, cradling him almost gently to his chest. "I told you Charlie..." he said, stroking his fingers across the boy's cool, pale face almost lovingly. "Some people just need to be handled." The boy's glassy eyes blinked up at him briefly before flickering closed and staying that way. He hung in Jerry's arms limply like a marionette with its strings cut, his head lolling back and falling to the side, exposing the uninjured side of his neck. It was almost like an invitation.

Jerry stared at the unbroken flesh, his gums burning and itching like he had just swished a mouthful of cinnamon Listerine. He could see the pulse of blood just beneath the surface, weak and sluggish though it may be, and he could feel his fangs extending, a slight sting as the sharp, jagged points cut into his gums. His jaw widened, sharp fangs sticking out like daggers in a shark's mouth, and his breathing deepened in order to enhance his senses even further.

He could smell the boy's sweat now, the way his blood mingled with that and the dirty air in the alley. His blood was dripping down Jerry's arm, falling to the ground with a soft _plick_ noise each time it landed in the slowly forming a tiny puddle. Jerry shifted the boy in his arms, jostling him into a new position so his throat was more exposed. He bent forward, his jaw stretching a bit more as he opened his mouth. His lips brushed over the smooth, pale skin and his tongue traced a thin, careful line over the pulse point in Charlie's throat. He could feel the vibration of blood against his lips, so close and so vulnerable...His fangs were so close to the boy's skin he could actually feel the body heat coming off of him. Just one quick bite...that's all it would take...bite down, crush the airway, and Charlie Brewster would be out of his life forever...he was already halfway gone anyway...

Jerry stopped then, his fangs just barely brushing over the smooth unbroken skin beneath them. He hesitated and he wasn't sure why. He shouldn't care that Charlie was dying. Hell, he'd try to kill the kid more times than he could count and it was nearly all the thought about since regaining his body. He hated this boy, hated everything about him and wanted nothing more than to be rid of him completely but for some reason he hesitated. It would have been an easy kill, easier than probably any he'd done in the past few years, and another vampire had already taken the liberty of starting the process for him. But that was the problem. Charlie was going to be _his_ kill and no one else's. _Jerry_ wanted to be the one to kill Charlie, not the one to simply finish him off. The boy was a pain in the ass, literally, but he showed more fight and more spirit than anyone else Jerry had ever encountered. He actually fought back instead of fleeing in terror like a coward. If anyone was going to kill Charlie, any vampire, it was going to be Jerry and he wasn't going to settle for him being half-dead when he did it.

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and forcing his jaw closed as well. His fangs slowly slipped back into his gums, disappearing all together and leaving him with the same gorgeous smile that lured all the women back to his house. He looked back down at the unconscious boy in his arms, his resentment and anger still burning holes into the back of his mind, but he knew what he had to do. The only way he would allow himself to kill Charlie and feel like he'd accomplished anything was if the boy was healthy enough to fight back and right now he most certainly wasn't. Charlie was bleeding to death and if he died before Jerry had a chance to finish him off himself, he would never forget it.

He lifted the boy into his arms easily, standing slowly and making his way back to his truck. He opened the door one-handed and deposited the unconscious teenager into the passenger seat, ignoring the long smear of blood that streaked across the seat as he slumped sideways. Jerry didn't really care, it certainly wasn't the first blood stain he'd had in this truck. He walked around to the other side, swinging himself into the driver's seat and shoving the key into the ignition. With one sideways glance at Charlie, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove back in the direction of his house.

**OOOOO**

It was close to 5 am by the time the truck rumbled into the driveway in front of a small, single story brick house. All the windows had been boarded up and then covered with a thick layer of curtains to the inside. The door was reinforced on both the inside and the outside and there was evidence of some sort of construction going on beneath the house. No one ever asked about it though; most people avoided Jerry Dandridge's house if they could help it.

Jerry turned off the ignition and stepped out of the truck, walking around to the other side and opening the passenger door. Charlie was slumped across the seat, eyes closed and skin colorless. He hadn't regained consciousness at all since he'd passed out in the alley and Jerry didn't see that changing any time soon. He was still breathing though, albeit shallowly, so at least he hadn't up and died on the trip over here. Jerry grabbed the teenager's thin, clammy wrist and pulled him upright, catching him easily before tumbled out of the truck. He hoisted him over one shoulder, nudged the door closed with his hip, and made his way up to the front door.

The house was cold and dark, the closest thing to a cave one could get in this part of the city. He'd been working on this house for a little over five months now, rebuilding everything he'd lost in the old one. It didn't have a basement (yet) nor did it have a storage hallway he could hold his victims in but he had plans to change that. He'd become a bit careless a year ago, he'd made himself noticable and that had led to his downfall. No matter; he would be sure not to make the same mistake twice. Las Vegas was a big city, there was no way to keep track of every single person who went missing.

He weaved his way through the dark hallway, carefully avoiding boxes and heavy bags full of tools, and walked into the bedroom. The bed was still unmade and rumpled from the last woman he'd had over but the sheets were clean of blood at least. He always made sure to make the kill in a different room; he was rather fond of the Egyptian sheets on his bed and having to wash the blood out of them on a regular basis took away from the softness of the fabric. Not that he ever slept but still, if he was ever in the mood to lay down in the bed, he preferred the sheets to be nice. He wasn't worried about it right now as he dumped Charlie uncerimoniously onto the tangle of sheets and blankets. Once again, a pool of liquid heat shivered its way into the pit of his stomach and made his groin throb with want at the sight of Charlie so helpless and vulnerable on his bed. He shook his head slightly, pushing those thoughts away for the moment. If he didn't do something about Charlie's wound, the kid was going to bleed to death and he'd be left with nothing but a corpse. It wasn't like he'd never had sex with a body before but still, that wasn't the point...

He turned back into the hall, walking toward the kitchen and turning on a single light above the stove. The appliances hadn't been touched yet, the cabinets and pantry were barren, and the refrigerator was completely empty save for the produce drawer which was filled with apples. He didn't have the give off the appearance of being human very often so he wasn't worried about stocking the kitchen any time soon. Still, he needed the First Aid kit out of the cabinet beneath the sink.

The First Aid kit had come from the construction site, one of the freebies all the workers got when they first started the job. It was supposed to encourage employee safety or some shit like that; Jerry hadn't really been paying attention when it was handed to him. He wasn't sure why he'd kept it, it wasn't like he would ever need it with his regeneration abilities, but for some reason it had ended up in his kitchen under the sink. He was glad for it now though, considering the circumstances.

He grabbed the kit and walked back to the bedroom, setting it down on the beside table and flicking on a lamp. Charlie was sprawled bonelessly across the bed, arms and legs akimbo like he'd just been tossed out of a car. The wound in the side of his throat was ugly and caked with dried blood so it was hard to see how bad the damage was. Jerry stepped out of the room once more, grabbing a wash cloth from the bathroom and wetting it under the faucet.

He walked back into the bedroom, kneeling next to the bed and carefully scrubbing away the blood from the side of Charlie's throat. There was a lot of it, stiffening the collar of his shirt and causing the fabric to stick to his skin. Jerry paused long enough to unbutton the shirt and wrestle Charlie out of it, which was significantly harder considering he was unconscious, and toss it into the corner of the room; it was ruined anyway, he doubted Charlie would be missing it any time soon. He stopped, letting his eyes linger on the boy's pale, bony chest. Charlie actually had some muscle definition, that was a surprise, the light casting very thin shadows in the dips and curves of his muscles. He continued to gaze at him for a few more seconds, his eyes traveling over the smooth planes of skin and the tiny freckles that dotted his chest. Jerry suddenly had the wild idea that Charlie would look good with a nipple ring. He shook his head again, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand once more, and turned his attention back to the blood. It was thick and tacky, the result of fresh blood drying over old blood, and it flaked off onto the sheets as he worked. The wash cloth joslted the wound enough to caused a fresh wave of blood to ooze from the torn flesh, dying the skin that had just been cleaned crimson.

Once the majority of the blood had been cleaned away, the extent of the wound was visible against the pale skin. The flesh was ripped and torn, the bite had been sloppy. It wasn't a clean wound like the ones left by a mature vampire but the crazed, gruesome tearing made by a newer one. There was no telling how many vampires there were in this city, Jerry never bothered to count them, and the chances that it came from a fledgling vampire was more possible than not. The lucky thing about the bite though was that the artery hadn't been severed; if it had Charlie would have been dead in that alley in minutes. While the wound was deep and ugly, the severity was substantially less than what Jerry had expected.

He opened the First Aid kit with one hand, rummaging around in the box for a second before pulling out a thick gauze pad and a roll of bandages. He couldn't stitch the wound for two reasons: number one, it was much too jagged and wide to do without some kind of medical assitance and number two, he didn't have a suture kit in the First Aid kit. Covering the wound and preventing anymore blood loss was the best he could do for now.

He covered the wound with the gauze pad and began to carefully wrap the bandages around Charlie's throat, securing it to his neck tightly. The bandages blended in with his pale skin, sticking out in stark contrast to the darkness of the sheets. After a few seconds, once the wound had been wrapped as tightly as Jerry could manage without strangling the teenager, he sat back and examined his work.

Charlie was still unconscious, his breathing shallow and uneven, but he hadn't taken a turn for the worse yet so Jerry figured it was a good thing. He stared at the boy for a few more seconds, taking in every inch of skin he could. He felt like he was memorizing every curve of Charie's body, something he had neglected to do all those months ago. He knew the boy's chances for survival were slim but it wouldn't be for lack of trying. He stood slowly, casting one last look at the bed before tossing the stained sheets over Charlie's bare chest and stepping out of the room, leaving him alone in the darkness.

**OOOOO**

Charlie twisted fitfully in the tangle of sheets, his arms and legs becoming more hopelessly trapped with each movement. He was clinging to the verge of consciousness with a vice-like grip, holding on with everything he was worth. He struggled to open his eyes, the effort taking much more energy than he liked. It was suffocatingly dark, impenetrable almost, and for a split second Charlie wondered if he'd gone blind. A very tiny shimmer of light playing across the dark ceiling canceled that thought though and he concentrated all of his energy on focusing on that light.

He wasn't sure where he was and wasn't really sure how he's ended up here in the first place. He tried to lift his head but it felt like a 200 pound weight had been strapped across his forehead and the attempt made him dizzy. He felt weak and helpless, two sensations that did not bode well, and he struggled to remember what happened. His neck was throbbing, a deep, shooting ache that shot from his jaw to his collarbone and he remembered with a start the vampire from the alley.

He'd been walking down the sidewalk and someone had grabbed him from the darkened alley. At first he thought he was being mugged until the person wrenched his head to the side and clamped down on his throat. The pain had been unlike anything he'd ever felt in his life; the teeth and the biting hurt of course but it was nothing compared to the coldness that swept through his body as he quite literally felt the blood being drained from him. It was like being very slowly submerged into a tub of ice water but there was no way to get warm again.

The next few memories were blurry, hazy, and he blamed that on blood loss completely. He wracked his brain trying to remember but he kept coming up blank. He still wasn't sure where he was or how he ended up here but it was so close...right on the tip of his memory...

A light flicked on somewhere to his right and he snapped his head to the side before he remembered the wound in his throat. He gasped involuntarily, lifting a lead-heavy hand to his throat and touching the bandages covering the wound. The brush of his finger tips over the bandages brought a fresh wave of throbbing to a crescendo.

"I see you're finally awake," a silky, seductive voice muttered from the shadowed silhouette in the doorway. That voice sounded so familiar...but it was impossible...there was no way...he'd killed him... The voice's owner stepped into the room, his image still obscured by the light behind him, and approached the bed. The lamp on the bedside table flicked on and Charlie winced at the brightness of the light. Then he gasped again, this time out of shock.

Jerry was crouched next to the bed, dark eyes gleaming and lips curled back in a sardonic smirk. "Hey kid."

Charlie sat up so quickly it made his head spin and was pushing himself backwards across the bed to put a substantial distance between he and the vampire. "Easy, Charlie," Jerry chided softly with a charming smile, his eyes never leaving the boy's face. "You don't want to open that wound back up do you?"

A very faint dampness had already begun to cling to the bandages at his throat but he ignored it. "W-What are you doing here? I killed you...!"

Jerry just smirked again and rolled his eyes like he was humoring a child. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie...we've been through this conversation already. You thought you killed me, I can't die, the world keeps turning. C'est la vie."

Charlie shook his head in disbelief. "But...But Peter said-"

"Peter Vincent collects items of the occult...no matter what he's been told or what he tells you, I can pretty much guarentee nothing in his arsenal will work for long." Jerry shrugged one shoulder. "Hate to break it to you kid, but it takes a lot more than a stake in the heart to take down a vampire."

Charlie was reeling. He'd spent the entirety of the past year convinced Jerry was gone forever, that he'd been defeated in the basement of that house. He'd tried so hard to convince himself that he would never come back. And now here he was, crouched at the bedside and speaking to Charlie like they were old friends. What kind of parallel universe was this?

"Here." Something was being passed to him and Charlie looked down to see a glass extended from Jerry's hand. Charlie eyed the glass warily like he was expecting it to explode at any minute. Jerry rolled his eyes. "Charlie, take the fucking glass."

"Why? What did you do to it? What's in there?"

Jerry sighed heavily before answering. "Its water." Upon seeing the boy's disbelieving look, he continued. "Seriously, kid? You think I'd go through the trouble of poisoning you if I wanted you dead that badly? Hell, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered picking you up from that alley. I would have just left you there for the rats to finish off."

"Why did you?"

"What?"

"Why did you take me from the alley. Why didn't you just kill me right there and get it over with? Did you bring me back here so you could turn me into one of your weird dirt children or whatever the hell those things in the basement were?" The words came out all in a rush and the force of talking so much at one time was making him dizzy again but he couldn't help it.

Jerry's dark eyes glinted again but he smiled softly. "I have my reasons. Now take the damn glass, I'm not going to tell you again."

Charlie glanced between the glass and Jerry, debating on which one seemed more dangerous at the moment. He'd always been told never to accept anything from a stranger, expecially when that stranger had an affinity for human blood and biting, but he couldn't ignore how thirsty he was either. Another affect of the blood loss, he was sure, but it was becoming more than he could handle. Finally, after a few more seconds of debate and against his better judgement, he took the glass and took a large drink of water, almost immediately spitting it back out on the bed. "Ugh! What is that?"

"I told you, its water."

"Ugh...that's not water..."

"Yes, it is," Jerry insisted. "Its water mixed with salt and sugar, it'll help replace the electrolytes in your system. I can't really do anything else about your blood loss right now except keep you hydrated and this is the best way to do it." He stood, walking into the bathroom and returning a few minutes later with a towel, crouching back down by the bed and dabbing at the water on the sheets. "Drink it."

Charlie eyed him carefully once more, anticipating some kind of surprise attack. After a few seconds, when one didn't come, he lifted the glass to his lips again and took another tentative sip. It tasted horrible, like salty sweet lemonade, but it did help with the thirst. He finished the glass after a few minutes, his arms still feeling heavy and unresponsive as he struggled to place the glass on the night table without knocking it over. "How long have I been here...?" It was another question that had been bothering him since he regained consciousness and one that had moved to the forefront of his mind.

"Hmm...about a day and a half?" Jerry muttered, tossing the towel across the room into the same corner Charlie's shirt had ended up. "Thought I'd lost you there for a while." Upon seeing Charlie's shocked expression, he smirked again. "Blood loss tends to lead to unintentional comas, you know."

"A day and a half? I've been here for a day and a half?"

"Wow, nothing gets by you, does it kid?"

"Oh my God...I've missed two days worth of school...I had a paper due...my mom is going to flip-"

"Where is your mom, Charlie?"

The question caught the younger man off guard and he blinked for second before his eyes narrowed suspiciously at Jerry. "Why? Why do you want to know where she is?"

Jerry rolled his eyes again. "Because I found you bleeding to death in an alley off the Las Vegas Strip. Unless I'm mistaken, usually mothers are the first ones who notice their kid's have gone missing." He grinned darkly, shiny white teeth flashing in the dim light. "I should know."

Charlie felt an unintential shudder and shook his head a bit. He figured he should lie and say that his mom was home right now but he doubted Jerry would believe that for a second. "Uh...she's on a business trip...she won't be back home until Wednesday."

Jerry nodded after a second and stood, taking the glass from the bedside table and walking it up to the kitchen, leaving Charlie alone in the dark room. The boy's head was reeling. Jerry was alive. He was in Jerry's house...in Jerry's bed. The last part of that statement alone was enough to send his mind into overdrive. Jerry was a vampire and Charlie was stuck in his house. He looked toward the door, trying to discern how far away the front door was and if he could make a run for it. He tried lifting one leg off the bed experimentally and felt a prickle of sweat begin to form on his back between his shoulders. It was an insane amount of effort of even lift one leg so running seemed to be out of the question. In the darkness, he could make out the frame of a window covered in thick, dark curtains. He could rip the curtains off the windows and shower Jerry in a healthy dose of sunlight but once again, that meant using his legs and that seemed to be a losing battle. He was still racing through these thoughts when Jerry finally entered the room again.

"I wouldn't try making a run for it, kid," he mutttered as if reading Charlie's mind. "I'm faster and stronger than you even when your health is at full capacity."

Charlie shook his head wearily, the effort of sitting up becoming more exhausting with each passing minute. "You never answered me from before...why am I here? Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Jerry smiled that same silky, devious smile he used on everyone he was trying to charm and looked directly at Charlie. "Oh Charlie...haven't you figured it out yet? You belong to me and I couldn't very well let you die by someone else's hands, now could I?"

Charlie shook his head a bit. "I don't belong to you-"

"Oh really?" Jerry said, cutting him off sharply. In one swift movement, he had crossed the room and was now stradling Charlie's hips, bearing down on him with enough weight to keep him pinned and securing his wrists over his head. Charlie gasped at the sudden position; he hadn't even realized it was happening until Jerry was on top of him. "You've belonged to me since the first day I met you in the driveway. You think I was chasing after Peter and Amy and Ed because I wanted them? No, I pursued them to get to you. You're the one who interested me Charlie, it was you all along." Seeing his disbelieving look, he smirked again. "Its always been you."

Charlie struggled fruitlessly, his wrists clamped in Jerry's hands like handcuffs. "Get off," he growled with all the strength he could muster. Jerry was heavy and he was solid and Charlie was already dizzy from blood loss so the effect was making him that much weaker.

"And if I don't? What will you do about it, Charlie?" Jerry leaned forward so the tip of his nose brushed against the younger man's. Charlie's chest was heaving raggedly, his struggling becoming weaker with each bout of energy. "You couldn't fight a horsefly right now, let alone a vampire who has centuries of experience on you."

Charlie gave one last thrash, a bit more violent than the ones previously, before giving up and collapsing in a panting heap on the bed. "Just do it...fuck, just do it already and get it over with."

Jerry chuckled softly, moving one hand from Charlie's wrists and caressing his face gently, almost tenderly. "I'm not going to kill you Charlie and I'm certainly not going to turn you...not yet at least." There was a devilish smirk before he continued. "No, I have other plans for you right now...plans we can both enjoy..."

Charlie felt an involuntary shudder tremble down his spine at the lustful look in Jerry's dark eyes. He couldn't deny the older man was handsome; hell, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't developed a bit of a crush on him when they first met. Granted, all of that changed the instant he found out Jerry was a vampire but still, the man had the looks and the body to work with.

Before he could contemplate this any frurther, he found the small distance between he and Jerry closed as the vampire leaned forward and captured his lips roughly. The kiss was harsh and bruising and it made Charlie's head spin. His brain was screaming to push away, to fight back against the sudden invasion of personal space, but his body refused to react. All it cared about was the feeling of Jerry's lips pressed against his own, the way sharp, gleaming teeth nipped and pecked at his mouth like a hungry animal, and how all the remaining blood in his body had suddenly migrated vaguely downward. He felt the denim of his jeans constricting painfully against him and wanted desperately to move to achieve a more comfortable postition but that would mean grinding against Jerry and he wasn't sure he could handle that right now.

Luckily for him, Jerry was already prepared to take control of the situation at hand. He shifted his hips slowly, agonizingly, over Charlie's growing erection, pressing down with just enough force to make the teenager wimper. Jerry smirked and repeated the action, more slowly this time, varying the pressure.

Charlie's face felt like it was on fire; he could only guess the color it had turned by now (he was guessing somewhere between scarlet and puce). Jerry was a vampire...Jerry was a guy...Charlie was dating Amy...Charlie had had sex with Amy...Charlie was fucking straight! Then dammit, why did this feel so good? He struggled for formality sake, though the constant rhythm of Jerry's hips was making it hard to concentrate on anything else. The vampire was still nipping and biting at his lips, not hard enough to draw blood but definitely hard enough to make them sore and bruised. It'd be a wonder if he didn't have a swollen lip by the time with was over.

Jerry pulled back, his dark eyes glinting and full of an animal-like lust. "Relax Charlie...you know you want this." Charlie shook his head, no he didn't want this, but his lips were claimed again in another firey kiss and dammit it all if he didn't kiss back this time.

Jerry moved the hand cupping the side of Charlie's face down to his neck, fingers splayed over the white gauze gently. His fingers were resting lightly over the teenager's pulse, his fingertips tapping in time to the beat. He could hear the roar of blood in his ears as well, matching in perfect harmony to the beat beneath his fingers. It was softer to the touch due to the gauze that covered the boy's neck but he could feel every single beat like a tiny tremor. He wasn't sure how much of the rhythm was due to fear or arousal but he'd take what he could get. It had been a long time since he'd felt his own heart beating in his chest and knowing he had this kind of effect on Charlie's heart was enough encouragement to continue.

His hand shifted down, away from the boy's bandaged neck and passing over his chest. Long, slender fingers brushed over a dusky nipple and Charlie arched his back, groaning softly against the vampire's lips. Jerry smirked, allowing his fingers to circle and tease first one and then the other, his grin widening when Charlie arched into him, his hips rocking up to meet Jerry's. His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, chest heaving beneath Jerry's hand. The vampire smirked, hand moving downward once more.

Charlie's eyes widened almost comically when the same slender fingers brushed over the waistband of his jeans, making quick work of the zipper and tugging them, one handed, from his hips and down to his knees. He gasped unintentionally, jerking upward a bit and trying to shift away. "Jerry-" He had barely gotten more than the last letter out before Jerry's hand closed around him, firmly and solidly, and Charlie saw white.

He'd never felt anything like this before, not with Amy, not by his own hand, nothing else compared. He felt like he was falling away into oblivion while simultaneously being anchored by Jerry's hand. His entire body was aware of the touch, aching and wonderful as it was, and he couldn't breathe for a minute. Jerry was still rocking that same hypnotizing, impossible to ignore rhythm against his hips and Charlie had a brief moment of clarity before everything came crashing to an end. He gasped suddenly, his entire body going from livewire to electrified to boneless all in under thirty seconds. Nothing else would ever compare...

Jerry gave him a triumphant smirk, removing his hand from Charlie's boxers but keeping it pressed against his body. The teenager was trembling all over, both from climax and the lingering effects of the blood loss and his head was swimming dizzily. Jerry nipped at his bottom lip once more, just enough to catch a very small droplet of blood before pulling back.

"Like I said, kid...I own you. Every. Single. Inch." His fingers tip-toed their way across the waistband of his boxers with each word. "You're mine, all of you, whether you want it or not." He smirked again. "Though, considering your performance just now, I'd say you might want it a bit more than you let on."

Charlie looked away, suddenly embarassed. He'd never been with a man before, never really thought about it until Jerry came along and even then it was only fleeting thoughts; a curious fantasy that never quite went away. Tonight had settled that once and for all though. Charlie didn't know whether to be elated or terrified.

"Just remember," Jerry said, sliding off of him in that same agonizingly slow manner that ensure Charlie would get a tingle all the way down to his toes. "If you ever question my ownership of you, my rightful claim, you know exactly where to find me." He tossed a wink at the kid before stepping away from the bed.

Charlie managed to push himself up on his elbows, which was quite a feat considering the waves of dizziness that kept sweeping over him. "Where-"

"Lay back down." The words came out as a command, not an offer. "Your body still hasn't recovered from the blood loss, you need to relax and let your heartbeat regulate."

Charlie wanted to laugh; it was Jerry's fault his heart was racing in the first place! He wanted to say something to that effect but Jerry continued to walk toward the door. "Go to sleep, Charlie," he muttered quietly before he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

A small portion of him thought about making a break for it, running to the door and busting out into the street to flag down the first car that passed by. He entertained this idea for a good five minutes before he realized it was impossible. Number one, he barely had the energy to sit up, let alone run. And number two, he knew Jerry would catch him the minute he set foot outside this door. Escape was nearly a gaurenteed failure at this point. He sighed heavily and felt himself slump back against the mattress, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling. He wasn't sure how long he stared at it but at some point his body gave into the new exhaustion it had been subjected to and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**OOOOO**

The next time Charlie woke up, he found the lamp turned on on the bedside table, another glass of the water perched on the corner and a black t-shirt folded next to it. He sat up slowly, happy to find he had a tiny bit more strength this time around, and took the glass. It was the same disgusting sugar and salt mixture from before but it served its purpose of keeping him hydrated. He set the glass back down and eyed the shirt warily, debating on what to do with it. It was Jerry's, he knew that much, and he could feel a prickle of heat rise both his face and to his groin just at the thought of the shirt. He weighed his options: go shirtless or wear the one the vampire who'd basically raped him the night before had given him. Well...it wasn't really rape per say but...Charlie shook his head irritably and grabbed the shirt, slipping it over his head deftly and pulling his arms through.

He winced a bit when the collar caught on the bandages around his thoat. They had been changed, the gauze clean and soft instead of sticky and stiff from dried blood. It was still hard to come to grips with the fact that Jerry had basically been nursing him back to health in his own house (not to mention everything that had happened the night before) but the alternative was dead in an alley so Charlie couldn't complain all that much.

Once he'd dressed to as much of his ability, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and attempted to stand. His knees felt weak and shaky and he had to cling to the bedside table tightly to avoid falling over completely. His jeans were still balanced around his knees, his boxers rumpled and slightly stiff where the fabric had dried. Another hot flush sweltered up to his cheeks and he quickly pulled his jeans up, buttoning them carefully and smoothing the denim compulsively. It helped him center himself, regain his composure, he could feel the heat receding. A few minutes passed before he felt grounded enough to try and walk and he took a few shuffling steps toward the door. Jerry met him halfway there.

The door swung open and the vampire eyed him carefully. "Oh good, you managed to get out of bed without falling. That's an accomplishment." There was mix of teasing and sarcasm in his voice and Charlie couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Yeah, amazing what seventeen years worth of walking can do for you," he mumbled back, breathing a little harder than necessary from the exertion. He could barely meet the campire's eyes, his face flaming up all over again as his eyes came to rest on the keys dangling from Jerry's long, slender fingers. He remembered the feeling of them wrapped around him, squeezing and stroking...Charlie shook his head and cleared his throat sharply. "What are you doing?" He asked, nodding to the keys in Jerry's hand.

"Taking you home. I have to go to work and your mother is probably going to be looking for you when she gets back."

All sexual tension forgotten, Charlie's eyes widened like a cartoon character. "Shit...its Wednesday already?"

Jerry ignored him and turned on his heel, walking out of the room. "Meet me in the truck," he called over his shoulder, the front door slamming behind him a few seconds later. Charlie grimaced. It seemed like a trick...there was no way Jerry would be taking him back to his house and just letting him go like that. He was probably going to dump him out in the desert somewhere and leave him there to rot. Still, it was either take a chance in the truck or stay here in the vampire's house and Charlie was pretty sure he's stand a better chance out there. It took every ounce of strength he still possessed to make it to front door.

It was dark outside, the sun setting off in the horizon and Jerry's black truck stood gleaming in the driveway. Charlie dragged himself across the driveway, gripping the hood of the truck for support as he walked. He opened the passenger door and quite literally threw himself inside as his legs threatened to give out on him all together. There were dark stains on the seat behind him and he had a sinking feeling it was blood. His blood. The thought made his stomach turn.

Once Charlie was in the truck, Jerry reversed out into the street and drove away from the house. The ride back was silent and Charlie nearly felt himself fading off again by the time they pulled into a familiar suburb. He blinked, seeing the light of his house in the distance and his mother's car in the driveway. Jerry was true to his word, he'd taken Charlie back home.

"Get your mother to take you to the hospital for the blood loss." Jerry said from behind the steering wheel, not bothering to look over at him. Everything seemed too normal, too cut and dry...it was almost as if the night before had never happened. Cahrlie wondered if he was dreaming, it this was another one of Jerry's mind games, but the vampire gave no indication that he was even aware of the teenager's plight. With a soft sigh, Charlie nodded slightly and had just barely touched the door handle when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"And Charlie..." Jerry was facing him now, his dark eyes narrowed and predatory. "I wasn't kidding when I said you were mine to deal with. I own you, kid...every bit of you. Don't you ever forget that." The hand tightened on his shoulder suddenly, drawing him forward so suddenly Charlie gasped. The noise was lost when Jerry pressed his lips to the teenager's, claiming his mouth in a hungry, possessive kiss once more. He bit down slightly, just enough to break the skin in his lip, and he could feel Charlie tense instantly. He could tast Charlie's blood now, rich and burning and intoxicating and it wall all he could do not to tear at the boy's already injured throat. Instead, he released him, a bit more forcefully than he'd meant to and Charlie actually bounced off the door a bit.

Charlie was breathing a bit raggedly, his face flushed and pale. He looked shaken but resolute, as if that last kiss had confirmed something. He reached for the door handle again, pushing it open an inch before Jerry spoke again. "And if you ever try to light me on fire again, I'm going to skin you alive one layer at a time, got it?" Charlie nodded again, his eyes level with Jerry's; a silent understanding passed between them in that moment and nothing else needed to be said. "Good." Jerry let go of his shoulder and nodded toward the door again.

It was only when Charlie had stepped out of the truck and prepared to close the door again did Jerry flash him a darkly sexy smirk. "See you around, guy," he said, shifting the truck into gear and driving away into the night.

* * *

**Hope you guys liked it! :D**


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